


Possibilities

by takethisnight_wrapitaroundme



Category: Blindspot (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Lesbian Sex, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-20 22:30:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14270910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takethisnight_wrapitaroundme/pseuds/takethisnight_wrapitaroundme
Summary: Jane and Tasha have a night out, which ends rather differently than expected.





	Possibilities

**Author's Note:**

> No idea where this one came from (blame the hangover).

She knew what her detail saw: two drunk girls giggling in the backseat, whispering nonsense from the night out, trading playful punches and shoves and curses. They were no different than any other thirty-somethings after a night of too much alcohol, though instead of a cabbie in the front seat driving them home, it was two federal agents.

And federal agents did not often see the things they were not taught to see.

They didn't see the lipstick smudged beneath Jane's ear.

They didn't see Tasha's hand sliding a bit too high up Jane's thigh.

They didn't hear the whispers  _Wait, wait_ and  _I can't wait_.

They saw too women— _girls_ —goofing off in the backseat and they saw nothing more. They didn't think to look for anything more, because it was Agent Zapata in the backseat with their charge, not Agent Weller or another man, and so there was nothing to see. Drunk girls messing around, that was it.

Even through her inebriation, Jane knew their limits instinctively, and was grateful for them. It might make her detail subpar agents, but then again, wasn’t that why they had been assigned to protect her in the first place, instead of going out on real mission? Besides, she had better things to think about than her personal safety.

Tasha had kissed her in a bar bathroom twenty minutes ago and Jane hadn't been able to think about anything else since. The thirty-minute ride from Lower Manhattan back to Brooklyn was nearly torture, and if Jane didn’t already know her agents reported directly to Weller and Mayfair, she wouldn't have wasted so much time  _not_ kissing Tasha in the backseat, but reality was what it was.

_Good things are worth waiting for_ , she reminded herself.

That's what Tasha had said when she'd walked away from her in the bathroom after kissing her, and that's what Jane whispered to her now, pushing her wandering hands away, laughing with abandon, shoving her face into Tasha's long hair so she could bite her neck without her detail seeing.

She'd heard of cars that hard opaque partitions between front and back seats, so the drivers couldn't see what their passengers were doing, and with every minute that dragged by, she wished they had that sort of car. She wondered if she could request one, then she cackled at the idea of having to go to Weller or Mayfair with such a request.

_Why?_  would be the first question, and what was she supposed to answer?

_Because I want to make out with my female coworker on the go without anyone seeing_ , she might say, and Mayfair would stare, while Weller's head would certainly explode.

The image made her laugh harder. She shouldn't laugh at him—she really shouldn't—but it felt better than crying. They'd broken up two months ago and work had been hell on earth ever since. Earlier in the night, before they'd started taking shots, Jane had spent a good hour discussing with Tasha the logistics of transferring to another division to get away from him. It would be a mess, she was assured, but it was certainly possible.

_Possible is all I need_ , Jane had said, and then they'd started in with the shots.

After which things rapidly began to get out of hand. They moved bars three times, went to two different clubs, fended off lecherous men left and right and then, at the last place, ended up in the bathroom together.

Jane couldn't exactly remember why they went in together in the first place. She did remember the women’s bathroom being empty save for her and Tasha—odd, given how many people were in the bar—and she took the time in private put some water on her face and attempt to fix her hair. She remembered drying her face, peering at herself in the mirror as she did so, and seeing Tasha staring back at her over her shoulder. She remembered smiling and joking about how terrible she looked, only to have Tasha correct her.

_I think you look great._

Jane had smiled at the compliment, leaning back, knowing Tasha's shoulder would be there to support her. For a minute, they stood there together and stared at their reflections in the mirror. Jane couldn’t stop staring at her faded lipstick, at her smudged mascara, at the exhaustion that was written all over her face even when she was supposed to be having fun. Every second that ticked by only served to remind her what a mess she looked like, what a mess she was making of her life. There was a reason she'd gone out with Tasha, and only Tasha, and not Patterson or Reade. She needed someone who would let her throw her life away and not judge when it all broke apart at her feet. She'd been going pretty well all night, but certain things were starting to catch up with her. And staring at herself in the mirror in silence was certainly not helping. But she couldn't look away.

_Kurt would say I look like shit_ , she said finally, breaking the silence.

Tasha shook her head.  _Nah_. She wrapped her arms around Jane's middle, hugging her as she caught her eye in the mirror with a smile.  _He'd say you look hot_.

Jane snorted, rolling her eyes.  _Please._

_It's true_ , Tasha pressed.  _And he'd be right, you know. You_ do _look hot_.

Jane had managed a smile, for the sake of the compliment. For the sake of the night. She wouldn’t let Kurt—or herself—ruin this.

_Thanks,_ she told Tasha, meaning it this time.

_No thanks necessary_ , she'd replied, with a smile and a kiss on the cheek.

That's all it had been: just a kiss on the cheek. Nothing, really. People kissed their friends on their cheeks all the time. Jane herself used to kiss Sarah hello and goodbye on the cheek every time they had family dinners—not that she could be considered family anymore. Kisses on the cheek didn't mean anything. They were a friendly, familial, platonic gesture. She could even see in Tasha's face that that's how it was meant to be.

But something happened when Tasha kissed her. Jane could feel her heart again suddenly, as if it had just been turned back on—beating too hard and too fast for something as inconsequential as a kiss on the cheek. She stared at Tasha in the mirror, frozen, not knowing what to do or say or even what to think, and then all at once she turned around and she kissed Tasha back—on the mouth.

At first she didn't taste anything but lipstick.

She didn't hear anything but the pounding of her blood in her ears; didn't see anything but the inside of her closed-shut eyelids; didn't feel anything except her fingernails digging into her own closed fists.

Then she pulled away and she opened her eyes and Tasha was staring at her, lipstick smudged and eyes wide open and questions written all over her face. Jane didn't want to answer any of them. She didn't even want to hear them. She just wanted to keep kissing Tasha, so she did.

When other women finally wandered into the bathroom, they had to stop, which was probably a good idea given how close they were to getting naked. The women eyed them strangely, but Tasha only grinned at them, and Jane couldn't help but smile too, knowing she was the reason for that grin.

Five minutes after, they were being picked up by Jane's detail and now, almost a quarter of an hour later, they were finally pulling up outside of Jane's apartment. Her detail had asked if Agent Zapata needed a ride back to her own apartment, but both she and Jane had shaken their heads at once.

"Sleepover," Jane had offered by way of explanation, giggling, and Tasha had snickered back. “You know how it is—girls’ night."

Her detail had pulled away without another word. Jane stood on the street corner and frowned, watching them go, remembering all the times they'd lingered at the curb when she and Kurt had first started dating, like watchful parents.

"They're sexuality-sexist," she declared loudly.

"What?" Tasha laughed. She was busy pawing through Jane's purse for her keys.

"They let you stay just like that! And they didn't say anything about us in the backseat! If I had done that with Kurt, Jesus Christ—they would've thrown him out of the car while it was still moving!"

"Protective, eh?"

"Too an annoyingly extreme degree," Jane muttered, pushing Tasha's hands away so she could retrieve her key from its designated pocket.

"Maybe they knew you two were a bad idea," Tasha laughed. "They were just trying to head it off at the pass."

"Wish they had succeeded," Jane muttered, struggling with the key for a minute before throwing the front door open. "They would've saved us all a lot of trouble."

"I don't know..." Tasha followed her inside. "Some trouble's good trouble, right?"

Jane smiled to herself, tossing her purse and her coat onto the couch. She could hear Tasha closing the door and locking it behind them, and she found herself thinking that there were better ways she could occupy her hands.

As if reading her mind, Tasha suddenly appeared behind her, her hands on Jane's hips, her mouth on her neck, kissing the same place she'd left a lipstick stain earlier.

"Some trouble is definitely good trouble," Jane heard herself whisper, closing her eyes as one of Tasha's hands slid under her shirt and the other one turned Jane’s head to the side. She moaned when Tasha's tongue slid into her mouth; she could taste all the tequila she'd drank tonight and it was delicious.  _She_ was delicious.

Jane turned around so they were facing each other fully, and wrapped one arm around Tasha's back while the other went to her hair. Her beautiful, dark, silky hair. Smooth hair. Perfect hair.

Jane pulled away, breathless: "You have to tell me what conditioner you use."

Tasha snorted. "Is this your idea of dirty talk? I’m disappointed.”

"No, I really just want my hair to feel like that," Jane replied earnestly. A second later, her face went pink as her booze-slowed mind caught up to Tasha’s question. "Plus, I don't really..." She cleared her throat, suddenly awkward now, looking away. "I don't really _do_ dirty talk."

"Oh,  _really_?" Tasha was grinning, as Jane knew she would be. It made her seriously consider smacking Tasha in the face. "And why's that, Doe? Let me guess—not Weller's forte, hm? I have to say, I’m surprised. I would've thought he'd want to talk  _all_ about how much he wants you wrapped tight around his—"

"Please don't!" Jane cut her off shrilly, her face bright red now. "Look—ground rules, okay?  _Please_? I really don't want to talk about Kurt anymore. It's weird. He's my ex and we both still work for him and it's bad enough that I have to see him every day, I just—I want tonight to exist outside all of that, okay?"

"Okay," Tasha nodded. "Okay, I get it." She blew out a soft sigh, looking away. “Sorry,” she muttered apologetically. "That was shitty of me, talking about him. I know you guys had a bad go of it and I know it’s been awful still working with him..." The apology bled out of her voice as she glanced up at Jane. "Just one more thing, though, Doe."

Jane groaned, turning away. "Zapata, we agreed—"

"Just one!" Tasha pleaded, folding her hands in prayer. "Please— _please_ —just tell me I'm not your rebound fuck from Weller. I would die of shame."

Jane snickered. "Why would you die of shame? It's not like anybody's ever going to find out about this."

"Hm, and yet that doesn't answer my question now, does it, Doe?"

"No, Zapata," she answered dutifully. "You're not my rebound fuck." She tried, but she couldn’t hide a smile. "I did that a while back, if you must know.”

“Oh yeah?” Tasha's eyes lit up. "Who was it? Tell me! Who'd you fuck?! Do I know him? Oh my god—was it someone from work?"

" _God,_ no! Are you insane? I couldn't sleep with anyone there without him finding out."

Tasha grinned, gesturing between them. “Well, what about...?"

“It should go without saying that this is one secret I trust you'll be able to keep just between us."

"Hm, that depends..."

Jane raised her eyebrows. "On what?"

"On how this goes."

Jane opened her mouth to protest, but before she could say a word, Tasha kissed her again, and no argument seemed important enough to hold onto anymore now that Tasha's mouth was on hers. Jane let her back her towards her own bedroom, and they only crashed into walls twice before they finally made it inside.

"Wait, wait, wait—" Jane pulled away, panting, just when they'd reached the edge of the bed. She grabbed onto Tasha’s shoulders, holding her still. ”You have to understand—"

“—you've never done this before," Tasha finished flatly for her. She rolled her eyes at the look on Jane's face. "Come on, Doe, it's obvious."

"Fuck you!"

"What? Why? I'm not saying you're a bad kisser or anything!"

"I'm a  _great_ kisser!"

"Okay, good, we both agree on that, then."

Jane blinked as she digested the logic, a slow smile taking shape on her face. "We do?"

Tasha laughed, reaching for her. "C'mere, you idiot."

She pulled her close, joining their mouths again, and their pressing their chests, stomachs, and hips together. They kissed slower now than before, taking turns exploring each other's mouths, gauging each other's likes and dislikes. When they hit a rhythm and not as much care was needed simply to kiss, Jane started grinding her pelvis against Tasha's, gently at first, and then more and more insistent, as if searching for something.

When she'd had enough, Tasha broke their kiss, laughing.

"There's nothing to feel," she reminded Jane.

"I know." Jane looked down, embarrassed. "Sorry, it's just—habit."

"I know." Tasha reached out to lift her chin. "And it's a good habit," she told her. "But it'll work better for us if we don't have clothes on, trust me.”

Jane nodded, looked at Tasha, and then looked down at herself. She burst out laughing. "I can't believe we're still fully dressed."

"Makes two of us," Tasha smiled, reaching for the button of her jeans.

Jane reached out to stop her. "Wait." She swallowed. "I, um—I want us to undress each other."

"Okay." When she saw Jane hesitating still, Tasha bent forward, kissing her gently on the lips. "You keep telling me what you want, okay?"

Jane nodded. "Yeah." But she didn't reach for Tasha's clothes. She didn't say anything else. Her mind was stuck on something. Tasha was acting almost exactly like Kurt did the first time they slept together—too kind, too attentive. It was throwing her off. When Tasha prodded her gently about what she was thinking about, Jane burst out, "Why is everyone I sleep with so obsessed with consent?"

Tasha blinked in surprise for a second before she smiled. "Good people attract good people, I guess," she offered with a shrug.

Jane smiled back. Then she leaned forward and kissed Tasha, grateful she hadn't pushed the comparison further. It looked like their agreement would hold after all. She reached for the zipper of Tasha's pants as Tasha lifted her hands to Jane's chest. Jane moaned when Tasha squeezed her breasts through her shirt, and she bit Tasha’s lower lip when she pinched one of her nipples.

Jane broke the kiss to yank her shirt over her head and get rid of her bra; by the time she'd done that, Tasha had kicked off her jeans and was already reaching between Jane's legs. Jane moaned as Tasha shoved her fingers up against the apex of her thighs, rubbing her through her jeans. In retaliation, Jane grabbed at her ass, hauling her closer with one hand and burying her other in Tasha's hair.

She was panting, trading Tasha's mouth for the open air whenever she needed a breath, which was far too often. Tasha's hand between her legs hadn't let up and Jane was having a hard time handling so much so soon.

"I bet I could make you come just like this," Tasha whispered, reading her mind, and Jane whimpered, clenching her thighs and shoving herself against Tasha's hand, helpless to control herself. "Do you want that, hm? Do you want to come in your jeans before I've even tasted you?"

"Tasha!" Jane jerked back, grabbing Tasha's wrist hard, nails digging into skin. The warning was clear:  _We agreed_.

"You said I couldn't talk dirty about Weller. You never said I couldn't talk dirty about  _you_."

Jane blew out a hot breath, half groan, half whimper. She still held Tasha's wrist tightly in hers, but Tasha managed to move her fingers back and forth a bit. Jane didn’t draw away again.

"Do you like it?" she whispered, leaning close so she could kiss Jane's neck. "Do you like it when I talk about how hot you are? How wet you are? For  _me_?"

"Please," Jane whined. Her grip was still strangling Tasha's wrist, but she was leaning forward again, pushing herself as fully as possible into Tasha's hand. “Please, more.”

Tasha smiled at the sound of her begging, letting it go on for a few more seconds before she yanked her hand away, smug at the betrayal on Jane's face.

"Don't worry," she whispered, reaching for the zipper on Jane's jeans, "I'm not gonna leave you like that."

Tasha pulled at Jane's pants, Jane pulled at Tasha's shirt, and in seconds, they were both were both naked save for their underwear.

"Damn," Jane whispered, staring at the lacy red thong Tasha was wearing.

Tasha smirked, glancing down at herself as she turned in a small circle, sticking her ass out to show off. "I'll be honest, I did think I'd be hooking up with someone tonight."

"So did I."

"But not me?"

"Not you," Jane admitted, placing a hand on her hip to pull her closer.

Tasha stepped forward with a smile, reaching out to tuck some of Jane's hair behind her ear. She kissed her lips, then her collarbones, then curled her tongue around each of her nipples.

"Can I ask you a rude question?" she wondered, pressing kisses ever lower.

"Tash, you can ask me whatever the hell you want."

"How do you explain the tattoos away to the others?"

Jane smiled briefly, tangling a hand in Tasha's hair to steady herself as Tasha knelt down. "You make it sound like I sleep with a new guy every week." She paused, closing her eyes. "Which is kind of accurate these days, actually. Jesus."

"No shame in that," Tasha murmured, licking her way around the edges of Jane's underwear.

"It's not hard to explain," Jane continued, pushing her hips forward. "I like tattoos, end of story."

"And your back?"

Jane’s eyes opened. ”I don't usually give my one-night stands any reason to look at my back."

“Ah.” Tasha nodded at the finality in her voice. "Note taken. We don't do all fours, then."

Jane kicked her leg. "Fuck off."

Tasha merely smiled, and pushed gently on her thighs. "Lie down," she instructed, and Jane did as asked. She watched from the bed as Tasha situated herself on the floor in front of the bed, kneeling in between Jane's spread legs.

"Can I ask you a rude question too?"

”Sure."

"Do you do this a lot?"

"What, hook up with coworkers?"

"No, sleep with straight women."

Tasha paused, momentarily at a loss for words. Jane wanted to take back the clarification the moment she’d said it, but she wanted even more to hear the answer. Tasha avoided her gaze, pretending instead to be studying one of the tattoos on Jane's leg.

“I do it more than I'd like," Tasha answered finally. The words sounded like they were hard to part with.

"I'm sorry," Jane whispered. She wasn't sure if she was apologizing for the situation or for her question or for both. Either way, Tasha shook it off.

"Don't worry about it. I'm not expecting anything from you." She caught Jane's eye, holding it steady. "You do realize that, right? This isn't anything. This is you and me just..."

"Hooking up?”

"Exactly."

Jane smiled and Tasha smiled back and then, still holding Jane's eye, she bent down low between her legs. Jane watched, heart starting to pound again, as Tasha kissed her way up between her legs. She'd done this a hundred times before with Kurt, and yet, because it was someone else—because it was  _Tasha_ —she was suddenly shaking.

Tasha brought her face right up to the crotch of Jane's underwear and breathed in, deep through her nose, making Jane shiver and push herself closer. But Tasha took her time, savoring the tension. She slipped her fingers under the flimsy waistband of Jane's panties, caressing the skin around her hipbones and brushing her thumbs against the edges of Jane's pubic hair. She smiled at the coarse feel, unsure why it surprised her. She had seen naked pictures of Jane before; they all had. But seeing her in person was different.

"Are you torturing me on purpose?" Jane muttered from the halfway up the bed, picking up her head just so she could glare down at Tasha.

Tasha smiled back. "If you think this is torture, you really have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't make it worse," Jane warned. "I've got a gun in my bedside table."

"Now you're  _threatening_  me into having sex with you?"

"Think of it as an incentive."

Tasha laughed, then bent her head back down to her task. "I don't need any incentive," she murmured. She missed the way Jane smiled at that, but it hardly mattered. The moan she heard once she put her mouth on her was enough—and that wasn't even skin-to-skin contact.

Tasha could feel how wet and warm Jane was through her underwear and she hummed, loving the way Jane jerked beneath her at the vibrations, hardly in control of her body. Tasha moved closer, licking her tongue along either edge of her underwear, but not beneath, and placing her fingers against the center so she could both hold Jane in place and give her something to move against. Jane didn't need to be told what to do; she rocked into Tasha's fingers out of instinct, out of need. By the time Tasha had finished sneaking tastes and touches here and there and looked up, Jane's face was red from holding in her moans and her curses and probably a lot else besides.

"Take it off," Jane ordered, and Tasha knew better than to deny her.

She pulled Jane's underwear off, down her legs, and resisted the urge to bury her face in the damp fabric only because she knew there was so much more waiting for her. She got to her feet, standing at the edge of the bed to admire Jane for a moment, laid out beneath her, legs spread wide, entirely bare.

"Enjoying the view?" There was a bite in Jane's voice that told Tasha she didn't want to be jerked around much longer, but Tasha merely smiled. Who knew if they'd ever do this again? She was going to enjoy it as long as it lasted.

Still standing, she slipped her underwear off as well, letting the ruined fabric fall into a little bunch between her feet. Then she watched as Jane spread her legs even wider in response.

"Please," Jane whispered, and her voice suddenly sounded so small and hoarse, "please, I want you. I really want you."

"How long have you wanted me?"

Tasha knew better, knew these were dangerous waters, but she couldn't help herself. She couldn't resist keeping out of trouble.

"Since—since—I don't know!" Jane cried, unable to think under so much pressure. "Since tonight. Since the bathroom. Since you kissed me—"

" _You_ kissed  _me_ , Jane."

After a second's thought, Jane nodded. "I guess I did."

"You surprised me with that kiss, you know," Tasha admitted, kneeling down on either side of Jane's hips, straddling her. "I really didn't see it coming." She rested her hands over Jane's bare ribs, cupping her torso. "You really don't... seem like the type."

"What type do I seem like?”

It was a question as much as it was a threat and they both knew it.

Tasha stared down at her for a silent moment, willing her to take it back. She didn't.

"You know what type," Tasha answered finally.

_The marries-the-boyfriend type._

_The pops-out-a-couple-kids type._

_The lives-happily-ever-after type._

Jane closed her eyes, sucking in a deep breath. "Yeah," she whispered. "I know what type."

Tasha didn't say anything else. She let them sit there on the precipice and she waited to see if Jane was going to push them over. If ever the night was going to blow up in their faces, now was the time.

But Jane didn't mention him.

She didn't mention anything.

She simply opened her eyes, looked up at Tasha, and asked if she was ready to keep going. Instead of answering, Tasha bent down and kissed her, triumph warming her body when she felt Jane kiss her back immediately. She rose up from the mattress, her arms wrapping around Tasha’s back. Jane dug her nails in deep into her skin and in response, Tasha ground her pelvis down hard against Jane's, listening to her cry out.

"Oh, fuck!"

Her hands flew to Tasha hips, gripping hard as she arched her back and they rubbed themselves against each other.

"Feels good, hm?" Tasha whispered, listening to Jane’s moans as she kissed her way down her chest. She took one breast in her mouth and cupped the other with her hand, marveling at all the colors, all the patterns inked there. She couldn’t stop her fingers from pulling at those jet-black nipples.

"Damn, you're hot," she whispered to herself, only slightly embarrassed when she heard Jane laugh.

"So are you," Jane whispered back, and it was the last thing Tasha heard before Jane suddenly flipped them over, kissing Tasha so hard into the mattress she had to push her off after a minute so she could breathe.

"God, you're quick," she panted, trying to get her breath back as she found herself suddenly laid out, Jane crawling down her body. There was a split-second where Jane hesitated, crouched low between Tasha's legs, suddenly unsure.

Tasha smiled, nodding at her. "Go on," she encouraged. "Just do what feels natural. Do what you’d want.”

"Okay." Jane nodded once, swallowing nervously. "Okay. But, fair warning, all I know is—"

" _Please_ , for the love of _God_ , do not say 'All I know is what Weller's done to me.' I'm going to vomit all over you."

Jane blushed, but then managed a grin despite herself. "Hey, what’s changed? Ten minutes ago, you were all into dirty-talking about him..."

"Not like this!" Tasha pressed her hands over her ears. "No, no, no!"

Jane raised her voice. "Oh, so it's okay when you do it to humiliate  _me_ , but I can't do it to humiliate you? Huh?" Even louder, she yelled, "How's that fair, Agent Zapata?"

"Just fuck me!" Tasha yelled back, hands still pressed tight to her ears. "I don't want to hear about your nightmare sex life!"

"The sex wasn't nightmarish," Jane defended, but Tasha still had her hands over her ears, and Jane knew better than to bother pushing the point. She lowered herself down and, in Tasha's words, did what felt natural. She started slow and careful, awkwardly staying to the outer edges until Tasha railed on her for being a coward.

"Bitch," Jane muttered under her breath, but she made herself bite the bullet anyway, and did one long lick up the center, spreading Tasha open and listening, so gratefully, to the little moan she gave off. Just that tiny sound made Jane want to hear more, and more, and more.

She explored with her tongue, trying different spots, different pressures, doing it as much for herself as for Tasha. Tasha tasted good, and even when she started begging for Jane’s fingers, it was hard to pull her mouth away. Jane wanted to drink her in all night, and she told her as much, only to find their positions abruptly reversed as a consequence.

Tasha didn't waste any time on her. She pushed two fingers inside immediately, knowing Jane was wet enough and ready enough and very used to penetration. The sound she made when Tasha pushed her fingers in was delicious.

"Feel good?" Tasha whispered, pumping her fingers as she danced around Jane's clit with her tongue. "You like that?"

"Yes," Jane hissed out, drawing the  _s_ out so long it was almost like a whole new word. "More, please. Tasha, please—"

"You want to come?"

Jane whined, shoving herself into Tasha's hand and mouth. She clutched a pillow under hear head with one hand and gripping her right breast with her other hand. Tasha reached out to squeeze the other, twisting hard enough to make her gasp.

"That's not an answer, Doe.”

"Yes, it is," Jane gritted out, so close to her orgasm as Tasha finger-fucked her that she could hardly speak. "It's a fucking answer and you know it is, you torturous— _Ohhh._.."

Jane's back bowed as her speech devolved into a low moan, and Tasha would smile if she could, if she weren't so busy lapping up everything Jane was giving.

Jane lay there afterwards, trying to catch her breath, trying to right her mind, trying to understand what had just happened and why and how. Had she really only kissed Tasha in that bathroom a couple hours ago? It felt like years in the past.

Eventually, when she’d returned back to her senses, she managed to roll over onto her side, facing Tasha as she lay beside her. She felt oddly nervous, as if this were her first time all over again—and in a way, she supposed, it was.

“That was good,” she whispered. “It was really good.”

Tasha smiled, reaching a hand out to fix some of her mussed hair. “I’m glad.”

It was silent between them for a minute as they lay there and stared at one another, until all at once Jane shot up.

“Hey. You never got off.”

Tasha chuckled. “Well, I wasn’t going to say anything…”

“Of course you were,” Jane accused. “You were just waiting for the right moment to throw it in my face.”

“I don’t know about you,” Tasha replied, stretching her arms behind her head and reclining comfortably, “but now seems as good a moment as any.”

Jane smiled, bending down impulsively to kiss her on the lips. She meant it to be a brief kiss—she knew her mouth was wanted elsewhere—but then one of Tasha’s hands reached behind and cupped the back of her neck, and then Tasha’s tongue was in her mouth and then, for a while, they couldn’t do anything but kiss each other.

Jane could feel Tasha’s nipples hard against her chest and she rubbed hers against them, purposefully stimulating her, relishing in the way she moaned, and even more in the way Tasha would take Jane’s lower lip between hers and suck, hard, in approval. Jane was already starting to feel ready again, to want more again, but she knew it wouldn’t be fair to uneven their score any further.

Separating their mouths, Jane kissed her way down Tasha’s body, zigzagging across her smooth skin, paying extra attention to her breasts, her bellybutton, and finally between her legs. Acclimating herself once again, Jane went slowly at first, not wanting to make mistakes or go too fast. She knew a few things Tasha liked, but she didn’t know everything. Part of her very much wanted to know everything.

“Faster,” Tasha kept telling her, but Jane ignored her. Tasha pulled on Jane’s hair, and she retaliated by nipping the insides of her thighs. Fast wouldn’t teach her anything. She wanted to learn something tonight.

“I’ll teach you something, all right,” Tasha muttered dangerously under her breath, but Jane merely smiled to herself, ignoring the threat in her voice. For all her clamoring to hurry up, Jane was slowly realizing Tasha liked things slow. She liked the sublime agony of it, the waiting, waiting, _waiting_ for the final, sought-after release.

And she liked talking, too.

It amused Jane, once she got past the initial embarrassment, just how much Tasha talked during sex. Kurt had never talked anywhere near this much. And the men she’d slept with since him had kept their commentary to little more than pump-up lines for mutual gratification. But Tasha _talked_.

She talked dirty and she talked normal and she talked everything in between. She had a big, loud mouth and every few sentences, when Tasha went too far, Jane thought about shutting that mouth up. By switching their positions or by gagging her with something, Jane didn’t know, but she was surprised to find that either scenario turned her on. It had been a while since she’d done anything bondage related. It made her squirm to think how Tasha would react, and she didn’t know what was hotter: picturing Tasha tied up, or picturing Tasha tying _her_ up.

She drove her tongue in deeper, using the momentum from her own thoughts to help push Tasha towards the end. She was writhing on the bed now, pulling on Jane’s hair with one hand and gripping the headboard with the other and cursing in a near-constant stream.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she chanted, pushing her hips into Jane’s face, hooking a leg around her back. “You learn fast, Doe, I mean, _Jesus_. I should’ve— _fuck_ —I should’ve come onto you sooner.”

Jane laughed against her, making her shake. “I’m not sure you would’ve gotten quite this welcome any sooner than tonight.”

“Oh yeah?” Tasha picked her head up, panting, to catch Jane’s eye. “Just got lucky tonight, did I?”

Jane grinned. “Well, just about,” she mused, and then before Tasha could say another word, she pushed her fingers deep inside—once, twice, three times—and then she was treated to the truly wonderful sound of Tasha Zapata hitting her climax.

Jane let her take her time coming down, watching her all the while, mesmerized by just how red she got when she came, how her body broke out in a sweat, how she breathed, hard and fast through her nose, like she didn’t have the wherewithal to unclench her jaw.

And maybe she didn’t. The thought made Jane smile, until finally Tasha came back to Earth and told her to stop gloating and come over. Jane did as asked, spreading out on the other side of the bed, exhausted suddenly, in the face of the night finished. She lay her head on one of the pillows and she watched Tasha and she wondered what was going to happen now. She usually preferred it when her one-night stands didn’t stay the night—she didn’t like her detail eyeing her brief weekend partners the morning after—but she found she didn’t want Tasha to leave right away. 

Tasha was her best friend and, Jane realized, all she wanted to do right now was talk with her best friend about what had just happened. She wanted to debrief the way they always did—after first dates and break-ups and everything in between. She just wasn’t sure if that was allowed tonight, after everything else.

She waited, cautiously optimistic, and when Tasha didn’t move to get up after five minutes, she counted herself lucky—luckier than she’d been even ten minutes ago. Jane turned her way to find Tasha already watching her.

“So,” she began heavily, “is this the dreaded moment where you get all Borden on me and we talk about our feelings?”

Jane laughed, relieved. “No, no. Nothing that serious. I just, um…” Jane cleared her throat. “I just wanted to say—that was unexpected. But it was a good kind of unexpected. I’m, um, I’m glad it happened.”

“I’m glad it happened, too.”

Jane chanced a little smile, and Tasha smiled softly back. Jane had had so much to say a minute ago and yet—somehow—just those couple words from Tasha had been enough. _I’m glad it happened too_. That’s all Jane had wanted to hear, at the end of all this: that there was no regret between them.

Relieved, she rested back against her pillow again, letting her eyes drift away from Tasha and up to the ceiling. It was quiet now, she noticed; it must be after three or four, so late that even the most stalwart partygoers had retired for the night. Jane liked the city best like this: on the off-hours, when most of the populace was asleep. She liked pretending she was the only one awake for miles and miles.

But Tasha was awake beside her; Jane knew it without even having to look over. And in the silence, the unspoken questions from earlier were crawling back into her head. She tried to push them away, but then, she had never been one to leave a mystery unsolved.

"I didn't know you were gay," Jane said finally.

"I'm not,” Tasha replied at once.

"Oh."

Jane opened her mouth to ask further questions, but she couldn’t find a non-insulting way of asking. For a minute she floundered, and Tasha let her flounder, until eventually she rescued her.

"I'm bisexual," Tasha explained. "That means I like having sex with men and with women."

"I know what it means," Jane muttered. Then she hesitated. "Does this make me bisexual too?"

Tasha looked over at her. "Do you feel like you're bisexual?"

"I don't know. I've never really thought about women before in that way. It’s always been men. But when you kissed me back..."

Tasha grinned, rolling onto her side. "I'm just _that good_ , aren't I?"

Jane slapped her stomach. "Shut up. That's not what I'm saying."

"But it  _is_ , isn't it? I'm so good I've made you realize there's a whole other avenue you're not even exploring. Face it: there’s more to life than just cocks, Jane!"

"Oh my  _god_.” She covered her face with both hands.

"Speaking of—it's my turn.” 

Jane eyed her warily. “ _Your_ turn?”

“My turn for the inappropriate sexual query,” she answered, to which Jane groaned. Tasha poked her in the stomach to shut her up. “Fair’s fair, Doe. Now tell me—who’s a better fuck, me or Weller?”

"You  _cannot_ ask me that!"

"What? Why not?"

"Because—Because you're a woman! He's a man! They're two totally different arenas."

"They're not that different."

"He and I dated for  _three_   _years_ , Tasha."

"Well, you and I have known each other for five."

Jane shook her head. "You don't know me like he knows me."

Tasha grinned, slipping her tongue between her lips. "I kind of do, actually."

Jane smacked her with a pillow. “You are _so_ crude."

"You like it."

Jane couldn't hide a smile. "I do," she admitted.

Tasha leaned closer, her grin widening. “You wanna tell me what other things you like?” She placed a hand on Jane’s hip, her fingertips caressing her tattooed skin gently. “Hm?”

Jane slid closer, ducking her head down so she and Tasha were face to face.

“Why tell you? From what I’ve seen, it’s more fun if you find out on your own.”

**Author's Note:**

> I just realized this is the first explicit f/f piece I’ve ever written. Hope it went okay! I would love to hear your thoughts in a review! <3


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